


steal your thunder

by Origamidragons



Category: One Piece
Genre: Enemies With Benefits, Enemy Lovers, F/F, Fingerfucking, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, Love/Hate, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Time Skip, Semi-Public Sex, lesbians being mean to each other but also kind of soft for each other: the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22049170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Origamidragons/pseuds/Origamidragons
Summary: Nami’s eyes are wide and dark and completely unintimidated. She smiles, sharp and unafraid and just this side of feral, as she says, “Can I help you, officer?”“Cat Burglar Nami,” Tashigi says, making an effort to keep her voice cold and professional, and Nami almost seems to preen a little at the title. “You’re under arrest.”
Relationships: Nami/Tashigi (One Piece)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 95





	steal your thunder

The sounds of fighting are raging in the distance. The clash is taking place in the town’s main square, a shipful of marines making yet another probably-futile effort to detain the Straw Hat Pirates. Tashigi can still hear shouting and the occasional crack of a gunshot, but the noises are muted, faraway, barely even registering.

All she can hear is:

First, the blood pounding in her ears, her heartbeat quick with adrenaline and the ever-present nervous thrill of the chase.

Second, the low and playful humming, some old sailor’s song, that the woman walking down the road ahead of her is singing under her breath.

Third, the gentle clinking of silver and gold as the same woman sifts through the sack in her hands. The sunlight catches on necklaces and coins as they rain through her fingers, bright and royal.

Fourth, the slow crunch of her every footstep on the gravelly soil, each one sounding far too loud to her ears, as though there’s no possible way that the cat burglar won’t hear. And yet Nami keeps walking, idly playing with her spoils, singing that low humming song under her breath.

Tashigi has one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other on her handcuffs. A sense of cautious confidence is building in her chest. She knows not to underestimate any member of the Straw Hat Pirates, of course, but Nami isn’t one of their main combatants, and right now the rest of her crew are tied down in the scuffle at the town square. If Tashigi can catch her off guard, here and now, disarm her and cuff her, there’s little risk of any of the other pirates finding them.

(Of course, by the same token, Tashigi knows that she can’t expect any backup for herself either. She’s on her own.)

Something tips out of Nami’s bag of spoils, a chainlink bracelet glinting gold, and falls to the ground. The streets of this town are orange with the rust of the iron-rich soil they’re packed from and the light of the setting sun, the color bold and vibrant, and yet they look dull next to the fire of the cat burglar’s hair.

Nami’s humming cuts off with a small, irritated noise, and she bends down to pick it up.

Tashigi sees her chance and takes it, and with three sprinting steps forward she has a cuff around one of Nami’s wrists, unsheathing her sword with her other hand. She has her off balance, she can cow her with the blade enough to cuff her other wrist or knock her out with the hilt if she struggles-

That’s not what happens.

Instead, Nami’s free left hand pulls a long blue staff seemingly out of thin air with a quick twitch of nimble fingers, and she turns sharply on her heel, swinging around and catching the blade of her sword on the slender metal with a sharp ringing noise. The bag of silver and gold tumbles to the dust at her feet, forgotten, and all of a sudden they’re standing nearly nose to nose.

Nami’s eyes are wide and dark and completely unintimidated. She smiles, sharp and unafraid and just this side of feral, as she says, “Can I help you, officer?”

It feels all too obvious, in that moment, that Nami had known she was being followed- had allowed it, even. But for how long? And _why?_

“Cat Burglar Nami,” Tashigi says, making an effort to keep her voice cold and professional, to keep her surprise off of her face, and Nami almost seems to preen a little at the title. “You’re under arrest.”

Tashigi still has the chain of the handcuffs clutched in her free hand, her fingers hooked into the cuff locked around Nami’s wrist, and she can feel the thrum of her pulse through her fingertips. In her other hand, her sword is locked against Nami’s staff.

Nami leans in a little, sticks out her tongue playfully. “Gotta catch me first.”

Tashigi raises her eyebrows, tugs on the handcuffs for emphasis. “I already have,” she says, even though she knows that she hasn’t, not really. She’s stuck, and Nami knows it, too- she can’t possibly get the other cuff on Nami unless she can get rid of the staff first. But likewise, Nami can’t pull her hand free and run, either.

Not that Nami seems inclined to flee. The cat burglar looks perfectly comfortable where she is, even playful, and Tashigi really doesn’t know what to think of that, or of the way that Nami’s big dark eyes haven’t left her face once, or of the way she can’t seem to get enough air in her lungs. It’s aggavating.

“Oh, it’ll take more than that to catch me,” Nami says, eyes bright. “What’s the fun if I don’t make you work for it?”

Tashigi presses her lips together, yanks her sword out of the lock and swings it again. Nami only has to shift her staff a little to block the hit, but this time that’s exactly what Tashigi is hoping for- she shifts her grip and twists her sword, forcing the staff to twist with it until Nami can’t hold it anymore without risking her wrist.

Nami’s fingers open and the staff falls- compressing down to a smaller rod as it does so- but Tashigi only has a moment to feel triumphant before Nami’s now-free hand snaps down to snatch it out of the air again. She toggles hits a button and before Tashigi can react, the staff snaps out to its full length again, and as it does so the end slams into her sword hand with unexpected bruising force.

Her sword goes flying. It lands on the dirt road with a dull clatter several meters away, well out of reach. Tashigi hisses under her breath in frustration, turns to run after it, already trying to figure if she can retrieve it and get back before the cat burglar escapes when-

_Click_.

She’s stopped short in her tracks by cool metal closing around her wrist, and the sudden tension of a chain.

She jerks back around to see Nami grinning like the cat she’s named for, and the other handcuff locked around her left wrist. The steel shines dull and orange in the sunset light, the same color as Nami’s hair.

Tashigi stares at their locked-together wrists blankly, feeling somewhat incredulous. “I- _why?_ ” she demands, bewildered. That had been Nami’s opportunity to run. Or to knock Tashigi out. Or _anything_ that wasn’t- _whatever_ this was.

Nami snickers, tosses her hair to one side, and Tashigi’s stupid traitorous eyes track the movement, almost mesmerized. Nami’s orange hair is nearly red in the light of the setting sun. “Didn’t think I was letting you get away that easily, did you?”

Tashigi stares, too stunned to even really be angry. “Letting _me_ get away?”

Nami shrugs a little, casually tosses her staff away, and takes another step forward. There wasn’t much space between them to begin with and now it’s all but gone, Nami’s body very nearly flush against hers, and Tashigi is abruptly _very_ acutely aware of the fact that the other woman is wearing a bikini top and tight jeans and nothing else.

“Mhm,” Nami hums. She’s just a little shorter than Tashigi, maybe half an inch or less, and their noses are almost brushing. She smells like oranges and sea salt and soil. “You’ve been looking at me since Punk Hazard,” she continues, and Tashigi feels her entire face go hot, because she’d thought she’d been _careful_. “I didn’t want you getting scared and running off again before we could get a chance to talk about that.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Tashigi says, and almost winces at the sound of her own voice- too high, too frantic, _lie lie lie_.

Nami makes an understanding noise. “Not a lot of pretty women at Marine Headquarters, mm?” she asks, ignoring Tashigi’s denials completely. “I bet you have a lot of rules about it, too. Fraternization, decorum, conflicts of interest…”

She trails off, and then grins. “But, you know, _I’m_ a pirate,” she says. “I don’t care about rules.”

Nami is still flush against her front, and Tashigi wonders if she can feel the way her heart is thudding in her chest. She can feel the heat of her through her shirt. She fumbles blindly behind her in her back pocket for her handcuff keys, but comes up empty.

“Oh, did I mention I took your keys?” Nami asks innocently. She winks, arches her back and rolls her shoulders a little in a way that makes her hips and breasts sway. “You might have to search me for them.”

Tashigi’s mouth is dry, and she can’t stop her eyes from following the movement, and god, those jeans leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. Nami’s skin is smooth and warmly tan from months spent at sea, and she brings her free arm up and around to rest on Tashigi’s back. Tashigi flinches back a little bit at the contact, surprised, and Nami is so _close_.

She’s not stupid, she knows what’s being offered, and she _wants_ so bad she can’t breathe right, because she _has_ been looking, Nami is right, and she must have been so much less subtle than she thought she had been if the cat burglar had known the whole time. Which makes her wonder if anyone _else_ noticed, Smoker, or any of the other pirates, if anyone else _knows_ -

Nami says, “Well?” and laces the fingers of their handcuffed hands together. Her hands are so _warm._ Everything about her is warm, warm as sunlight and oranges, and it’s a kind of warmth that Tashigi wants to sink into, wants let herself get lost in and never be found.

It takes the very last of Tashigi’s self control to rasp out, “I can’t,” and she can barely hear it over the sound of her own heart beating doubletime in her chest. “I can’t.”

“ _Can’t_ ,” Nami says, and grins, and holds her hand a little tighter, and her nimble pick-pocket fingers are rough with sailing calluses and for a moment Tashigi can’t think of _anything_ except those fingers and what they can do, “or _won’t_?”

There’s still the sounds of fighting in the distance, faint enough that they may as well be on another planet. Everyone else is still occupied, pirates and marines both. Around them, the town is empty and quiet, the few inhabitants having fled from the chaos of the battle, taking shelter in basements and shuttering windows.

Nobody needs to know.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tashigi breathes, and then, “I _hate_ you,” and then she grabs the back of Nami’s head with her free hand and yanks her into a kiss.

Nami is a very, very good kisser, and Tashigi barely has space to wonder how many other women she’s done this with before Nami’s tongue slips along her teeth and suddenly she’s not thinking of anything.

They break apart just long enough for Nami to whisper, “ _Liar_ ,” before she efficiently shuts up any objections Tashigi might have voiced with another kiss.

Just as well, really. Tashigi’s not entirely sure she _could_ say anything given the chance.

Nami’s pressed up against her, chest to chest, and Tashigi doesn’t resist when she pushes them backwards a few steps, until they’re against the nearest wall. She can feel the roughness of the plastered wall through her shirt, digging at her shoulder blades, but the discomfort doesn’t even register behind the fact that Nami’s lips are on hers and Nami’s body is warm and Nami smells like oranges.

Nami works a hand into her hair and tugs it loose, and the careful knot she keeps it in comes undone all at once, black hair tumbling down over her shoulders.

Tashigi’s free hand wanders across the smooth, muscled expanse of Nami’s bare back, lingering for a moment on the uneven scar tissue on her shoulder, until she finds the strap of her bikini top and blindly fumbles at it until the knot gives. Nami grins against her lips, and reciprocates by hooking two fingers into the neck of Tashigi’s shirt and yanking sharply all the way downwards, ripping the buttons loose.

They tumble to the street, glinting like pearls against the red dirt, and Tashigi pulls away long enough to scowl at Nami as her shirt falls open. “You couldn’t have just undone them?”

“Too much work,” Nami says, taking advantage of the reprieve to shrug her now-loose bikini top off over her head, and her tits are just as perfect as all the rest of her. “Besides,” she adds, with a hard yank on the handcuffs that goes straight to the pit of Tashigi’s stomach, “I’ve only got one hand free right now.”

“And whose fault is _that_?” Tashigi says. It comes out a lot more breathless than she would have liked, and Nami must hear it, because she only grins. Tashigi is starting to hate that smile. She wonders what it would take to wipe it off, what it would take to make Nami claw at her back and beg and _moan-_

She leans in and bites the cat burglar on the lip, hard and just shy of drawing blood, and revels in the surprised shudder that runs down Nami’s spine. _That’s_ more like it. She works her way down, trailing biting kisses down Nami’s neck, and even though she _really_ shouldn’t be leaving any proof of this meeting, part of her revels in the thought that they’ll bruise.

Because Nami might do this with lots of girls, but right now, in this empty street under this sunset sky with the sounds of battle still raging in the far distance, Nami is _hers_.

Nami works a hand into the waist of her jeans, pulls the button loose and yanks the zipper down. Tashigi has to take her hand away from playing with Nami’s breasts to help claw them the rest of the way off, movements made graceless and clumsy by urgency. After a moment of struggling with denim made clingy by sweat, she manages them to kick them off along with her boots and they join Nami’s bikini top in the dirt at their feet, her underwear following soon after.

Nami has a hand inside Tashigi’s shirt, blunt nails scraping slightly at her skin, and when she falls to her knees she scratches neat parallel lines of pain all down Tashigi’s back.

“Maybe when you report back, later,” Nami says, grinning up at her, “you can tell them you made a pirate kneel.”

“Can’t,” Tashigi manages, breathless and helpless, as she digs her free hand into Nami’s hair and Nami runs her fingers down her bare thighs, teasingly light in a way that’s almost cruel. “They might ask me how you got away.”

Nami grins up at her. “Ah, so I’m going to be getting away, am I?” she says, eyes flashing knowingly in a way that’s both infuriating and frustratingly hot.

Tashigi _hates_ her.

She opens her mouth to tell her so, but Nami’s grin sharpens to a knife-point and she presses two of those nimble fingers right up inside her with a single quick motion, and the noise that escapes her instead is humiliating. Her legs go a little wobbly and she lets herself slide down the wall, just a little, to shove Nami’s fingers further in.

Because god, she’s pathetic and she hates it but it’s been so long and Nami’s _right_ , there really _aren’t_ many pretty women at headquarters. There’s only men, too loud and too rough and too messy and everything that Cat Burglar Nami isn’t. Nami is beautiful and devious and sneaky and subtle and _awful_ , and Tashigi likes her far more than she should.

Nami’s fingers are nimble and her nails are just a little sharp, and Tashigi has to bite down on her lip to keep from wimpering, because she would like to crawl away from this experience with _some_ shreds of her dignity still intact. Even if that’s not seeming terribly likely at the moment.

Nami brings her cuffed hand up to clutch at Tashigi’s thigh, so tight it almost hurts. Tashigi grabs her wrist in answer and digs her nails in, and then Nami’s fingers hit a soft spot and she almost bites clear through her lip in her effort not to scream.

She all but collapses instead, her legs finally giving up on her as she folds down into Nami’s lap, legs splayed out on either side of Nami’s thighs. Nami’s hands guide her all the way down, and she lands with her forehead against Nami’s and Nami’s hand still between her legs, Nami’s unfairly nice tits pillowing against her chest, and everything is Nami, Nami, Nami.

She could get court-martialed for this. Demoted. It’s almost dizzying how little that matters now, with handcuffs cold on her wrist and her nails digging into Nami’s forearm, and the setting sun still warm on her bare skin.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tashigi hisses against Nami’s lips, low and furious.

“I’m _trying_ ,” Nami answers back, and her voice is still playful but there’s something intense and thick and hungry there now, and Tashigi doesn’t know when it crept in but it makes her feel powerful.

She’s not the only one who’s wanting.

“Shut up,” Tashigi says, “ _pirate_ ,” and kisses Nami again, deep and bruising, before she can reply. Nami’s fingers are still in her, pushing and pulling, hard and rhythmic, and she can feel the climax building and it’s making her jittery, confident, _hungry_.

When they break apart again, Nami’s lips are a little red and she’s more than a little breathless, and Tashigi memorizes the sight because it feels like victory.

“You’d be a good pirate,” Nami tells her, dark eyes blazing brighter than the setting sun. “You know how to take what you want.”

Tashigi hisses between her teeth. “I’m not _like_ you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not _greedy_.”

“True,” Nami says, and, “maybe you should be,” and all of a sudden she yanks her hand out, fingers coming away slick, and Tashigi’s left cold and empty and nearly aching with how bad she _wants_.

“ _Hey-_ ” Tashigi gasps, startled, and she means for it to be indignant but it comes out more plaintive. She grabs at Nami’s wrist with her free hand. “What are you…”

Nami grins, sitting back on her heels. Tashigi’s still straddling her lap, denim rough against her bare thighs. She must look like a mess, her hair undone and wild and her glasses crooked on her face. “I’ve got something you want,” Nami says, “right?”

Tashigi doesn’t answer, and Nami nudges her, squeezing her thigh. “ _Right?_ ”

“Yes,” Tashigi admits, reluctantly and then all at once, “ _fuck_ , yes.”

“So,” Nami says, and she sticks her tongue out a little, teasing, “do like a good pirate, and _take it_.”

“You’re _such_ a bitch,” Tashigi tells her, and means it wholeheartedly, even as her fingers tighten around Nami’s wrist and she yanks the cat burglar’s hand back between her legs.

“Takes one to know one,” Nami answers back without missing a beat, cooperating easily and pressing her fingers back where Tashigi wants them, eyes bright with satisfaction, “ _pirate_.”

Nami finds the spot and pushes, and the pressure that’s been building up, hot and heavy, finally snaps, and Tashigi’s mind goes blank. She whines, high and hungry, and her fingers dig bruising-tight into Nami’s wrists as she comes.

Cat Burglar Nami is famous for dancing with lightning, and it’s fitting, because even there in the dirt and the sweat and the grime, the only thing Tashigi feels in that moment is _electric_.

Then it’s over, and she rocks forward, spent and sated, and lets her face fall into the crook of Nami’s shoulder. Her hair still smells like oranges, and Tashigi presses a kiss just beneath her ear. It’s a different kind of kiss from the greedy, bruising ones she stole (like a thief, like a _pirate_ ) earlier. It’s soft, and Tashigi doesn’t quite know why she does it.

Nami lets her rest there for a moment, bringing an arm up to wrap around her back, and if not for who they are and where they are and _what_ they are it almost could have been romantic. Tashigi lets herself savor the moment, just a little. Just for the moment where it’s only her pressed against Nami’s chest and Nami’s arms around her, before the world slowly begins to fade back in.

She can’t hear the fighting in the distance anymore, she realizes.

Time’s up.

She blinks back into reality at the click of a lock, the sudden release of pressure around her wrist, as the silver handcuffs tumble to the red dirt, amidst all the other wreckage of their ill-advised tryst. There’s a red ring left around her wrist, the skin sore from the metal’s sharp edges, and she blinks at it for a moment.

It’ll be difficult to explain to Smoker if he notices that, she thinks stupidly, and then she realizes all at once what she must _look_ like, and that she’s still half-naked and practically pillowed against Nami’s bare chest, and she shoves herself frantically to her feet. Or, she _tries_ to, but she moves too fast and her legs don’t quite want to take her weight yet, and she overbalances.

Nami catches her, with a hand around her wrist right over the handcuff’s mark and a wordless, smirking smile on her lips.

“Shut up,” Tashigi tells her, and yanks her hand out of her grip as soon as she feels steady enough to do so. Her voice is uneven, and a little hoarse, so she snaps her mouth shut again and quickly grabs her pants and underwear, pulling them back on with almost as much urgency as she took them off.

Nami climbs to her feet languidly, unhurried, and stretches like a cat before bending to scoop up her bag of treasure, her bikini top, and her discarded baton. Her jeans are absolutely ruined, stained wet across the front and caked with red dust. “I didn’t say anything,” she says, but she’s grinning again. “We should do this again sometime.”

“This never happened, and even if it did it would absolutely never happen ever again,” Tashigi says, and her voice comes out steadier this time, for all that she’s lying through her teeth.

Nami just laughs at her, loud and bright, and Tashigi feels her cheeks get hot. She pointedly rips her eyes away from Nami (it takes a bit of effort, because Nami is putting her bikini top back on with leisurely slowness) to focus on buttoning her jeans and brushing her ruined hair back into some semblance of order with her fingers.

Eventually that’s done, though, and she has no choice but to look back at Nami, who’s still watching her, something Tashigi can’t quite place in her dark eyes.

“You should go back to your ship,” Tashigi tells her, because it’s all she can think to say.

Nami grins, too knowing by half. “Letting me go after all, huh?”

There’s bruises forming on her wrists in the shape of Tashigi’s fingerprints. “Just get out of here.”

Nami’s smile softens a little, and she steps forward and cups Tashigi’s hands in her own and presses a kiss to her cheek, and for some reason it makes Tashigi’s chest clench in a way than none of the other kisses did.

And then just like that she’s gone, dashing off down the street, back towards the port where her captain and crew are waiting for her to cast off for new adventures, and Tashigi stands there and watches her go, one hand pressed helplessly to her cheek, the scent of oranges still lingering in the air.

* * *

By the time she makes her way back to the town square, it’s almost full dark, and the Straw Hat Pirates are long gone. Smoker is quite literally fuming, plumes of white smoke rising from his shoulders as he barks orders at the few marines left conscious.

“I want contact made with the other bases in the area, find out which way they went- Tashigi! Where the fuck have you been!”

Tashigi grimaces, saluting and snapping to attention as best she can while using one hand to hold her ruined shirt closed. “Apologies, sir! I was engaged in battle with Cat Burglar Nami, but she managed to disarm and incapacitate me, and escaped.”

Smoker raises his eyebrows. “What happened to your shirt?” he asks bluntly.

Tashigi flushes, and mentally directs a long list of ugly words at Nami. “Casualty of battle, sir.”

“Huh,” he says. “Well, now you’re back, make yourself useful. Find a new shirt and then go see if any of the wounded are actually on death’s door, I don’t trust these new recruits to accurately catalogue their own injuries.”

Her shoulders slump in relief and she salutes again. “Yes, sir!”

She’s two steps away when he says, “Tashigi.”

She glances around. “Sir?”

“Was it your birthday or something recently?”

She blinks twice, absolutely bewildered. “What?”

“I just noticed you’ve got a new bracelet,” he says, gesturing at her wrist. “You should’ve told me, I would’ve given you the day off.”

She glances down, and the last remnants of orange-red sunset light catch off a slender gold chain bracelet fastened around her wrist. She’s seen it before, she realizes after a moment, when it fell out of Nami’s bag. She feels Nami’s clever, calloused fingers against her hands again and the echo of a kiss on her cheek, and prays the low light hides her blush.

“...no, sir,” she says after a moment, once she’s found her voice again. The metal is warm against her skin. “This was just a present from a girl I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy i've uh. i've never written smut before. so i have no idea if this is good at all. honestly it's like 80% projection because i too am a repressed lesbian who wants to get dommed by nami, that's just how it be. 
> 
> the title is from [girls like girls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npkdEEEqmdA) by hayley kiyoko because of course it is


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